Chapter 9

Delilah’s Pov

I had no intention of being here.

This party… this entire ceremony… it was the last place I ever wanted to set foot in. But Stephan had a way of convincing people to do things they shouldn’t.

I should have said no.

I did say no, twice. But here I was, standing at the entrance of the grand hall, covered head to toe in black silk and lace, my face hidden beneath a veil so dark no one could glimpse my features.

And yet…

Every single person in the room had stopped to stare.

I could feel their gazes crawling over me, heavy, curious, hungry. The outfit I’d chosen didn’t help matters. I knew exactly how seductive it was, the way the fabric clung to my body, hugging every curve, dipping dangerously low at the back.

I didn’t pick it for them.

I picked it for him.

And then… I found him.

Across the hall, at the high table, sitting where power sits Malric.

The moment our eyes met, everything else faded. The music, the chatter, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all of it vanished beneath the deafening silence between us.

His gaze… gods, his gaze burned through me.

Cold. Commanding. Possessive.

For what felt like hours, we just stared. I could feel him seeing me, even through the veil. And I knew somehow, he’d recognized me already.

Stephan’s hand brushed mine lightly, pulling me back to reality. He offered his arm with a small, polite smile.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go inside before people start whispering too loudly.”

I slipped my hand into his, letting him lead me down the steps, into the heart of the celebration. The shift in the room was immediate. People flocked to greet Stephan, voices bright, hands reaching. He was respected here I’d almost forgotten how much.

And though no one could see my face, I still felt their stares lingering.

The whispers.

The curiosity.

They were wondering who I was. Wondering why someone dressed like this had arrived so late, escorted by Stephan.

I ignored them. I’d trained myself to.

But when we reached the high table, my composure cracked.

Caleb.

Seeing him again was like being slammed into the past, the memories tearing through me faster than I could breathe. Every laugh we’d shared, every promise whispered under the stars… and the betrayal that had shattered it all.

Right beside him sat Islode childhood best friend.

My traitor.

My throat tightened. My chest ached. I wanted to scream, to demand why. I wanted to rip off this veil and force them to look me in the eye and answer.

I swallowed everything down and bowed my head, letting Stephan greet Caleb in my place. I bent slightly too, careful to keep distance between us so Caleb wouldn’t catch even the smallest glimpse of my face.

And all the while… Malric watched me.

Even when Stephan spoke, even when others at the table tried to draw his attention, he never looked away.

I’d made a potion to mask my scent, a powerful one, crafted from forbidden roots. It would fool almost anyone. But Lycans… Lycans couldn’t be deceived so easily.

And Malric was more than a Lycan.

I forced myself to focus on the food laid out before us, on the wine Stephan poured into my glass, on the lively songs and dancers meant to distract. But it was pointless. My skin burned where his eyes touched me. My body remembered him in ways I hated — ways I wished I could erase.

Then, without warning, Malric stood.

Chairs scraped lightly against the floor, voices hushed, heads turned. The Supreme Alpha leaving the high table was enough to make half the room shift uncomfortably.

I kept my head down, my heart hammering, pretending not to care.

Moments later, Stephan excused himself as well, muttering something about needing to speak with someone, and followed after him.

I was left there, veiled and silent, trying to disappear into the noise.

It didn’t work.

One of the pack members I didn’t recognize, a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes far too bold, came up to the table and leaned close, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Care to dance?” he asked, voice low, hungry.

I shook my head politely. “No, thank you.”

He didn’t move. “Please,” he insisted, flashing a smile meant to charm.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing around. Malric wasn’t here. Stephan wasn’t here. No one at this table knew who I was.

Fine.

“Alright,” I said finally, standing.

The man’s grin widened as he offered his hand. I placed mine into his, letting him lead me toward the center of the floor.

The music swirled around me as we moved across the floor, but every step with this man felt heavier than the last.

At first, it was easy to ignore him, his hand resting lightly against my waist, his polite smile, his practiced charm but then his touches began to drift.

The way his palm pressed lower against my back, the subtle way his fingers traced over the fabric of my dress, the heat in his stare as he leaned closer.

I stiffened, my body warning me before my mind caught up, but I didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not in front of these people. Not when half of them thought I was dead and the other half would have me burned alive if they knew who I truly was.

From time to time, my eyes betrayed me, pulling me back toward Caleb and Islode at the high table. They looked… happy. Too happy. Her laughter rolled softly across the room, his arm draped around her chair like she was his entire world.

As though I’d never existed.

As though none of it had ever mattered.

I forced myself to look away, but the burn in my chest only grew hotter.

That was when Malric returned.

Tall, broad, carved from some cruel god’s finest work, he looked untouchable in that dark suit, his sharp jaw and piercing eyes pulling every gaze without effort. Whispers followed him, people stepping aside instinctively as though their bodies remembered something their minds couldn’t.

I felt him before I even saw him, the weight of his presence pressing against me like a storm rolling in.

Then my partner tried to get bold. His hand slid down my side, pulling me closer, his breath far too near my neck, and instinct made me push back — not away, but against him. If he wanted seductive, I could give him seductive.

My hips swayed to the rhythm of the music, my movements deliberate, sharp, and calculated. I matched his flirtation with my own, tilting my head, dragging his gaze where I wanted it.

It worked.

Not on him but on Malric.

I could feel his eyes on me, burning hotter with every passing second. Watching. Waiting.

And then he moved.

The crowd parted like water around him, whispers swelling louder as he came straight toward us. My breath caught, my body reacting before my mind had time to form a thought.

He stopped in front of us, towering, commanding, devastating.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice was smooth, deep, threaded with something dangerous beneath the surface.

Before I could answer, the man holding me hesitated, just for a heartbeat and then Malric’s gaze cut to him like a blade. That was all it took. The man stepped back instantly, surrendering me without a word.

And then Malric’s hand was on me.

He pulled me against him, and my gasp slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

Neither of us spoke at first, but we didn’t need to. His touch said enough, the rough press of his palm against my back, the firm grip at my waist, the way he drew me closer than was proper, closer than was safe.

Finally, his voice brushed against my ear, low and dangerous.

“What are you doing here, Delilah?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I came for the ceremony. Stephan invited me. Is that so wrong?”

His hand tightened at my waist, just enough to make me feel it. “We invited you before. You refused. What changed?”

I hesitated, my breath shaky against his neck. “…Nothing.”

He leaned in, his lips almost grazing my ear, his voice dipping lower. “Then why do I find you here, dressed like this, dancing where every hungry set of eyes can see you?”

I had no answer. My silence said more than words ever could.

His hand slid lower, not enough to be indecent but enough to make my breath falter. “I don’t like people touching you, Delilah.”

“I know, but why?” I whispered, my voice barely audible beneath the music.

“And I don’t like being questioned,” he murmured, his tone shifting, deeper, harsher now.

“Then don’t question me,” I shot back softly, though my heart was pounding hard enough to drown out my own thoughts. “And don’t claim me when you’ve got no right.”

The air between us snapped like a tether pulled too tight.

His lips curved into something between a smirk and a snarl, his fingers pressing more firmly into my waist, pulling me flush against him. “I can smell it from here, your arousal” he breathed, his voice thick with meaning.

I blinked, heat crawling up my neck. “…I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear, sending shivers spiraling down my spine. “You do.”

I shook my head, pulling back slightly, but his hand followed, anchoring me where he wanted me.

“Let’s go,” he said finally, the command laced beneath the softness of his tone.

“No.” My voice was sharper this time, steadier. “I’m not leaving.”

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flashing behind them. “Delilah…”

“I’m staying.”

His grip tightened, his dominance wrapping around me like a second skin. “It’s either you agree now, or you get punished when we get back,” he murmured, voice low enough for only me to hear. “The choice is yours… Delilah.”